


any time you come home

by surgicalstainless



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surgicalstainless/pseuds/surgicalstainless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love lives here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	any time you come home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amethystina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/gifts).



> ... _not_ the fic I promised you, but this image came to me and wouldn't leave, and I thought you might like it too. Thanks for being you!  <3
> 
> A big thank-you also to [LilyT](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyT/pseuds/LilyT), who very kindly did the beta reading.

The house was dark and quiet when Jake let himself in. The air was still, barely stirred by the little mutterings of a world all sleeping. Familiar shapes of furniture were rendered in greyscale, picked out by slender bars of silver streetlight shining in between blinds. _Three o'clock and all's well_ , Jake thought, and locked the door behind him. _Home_.

He toed off his boots and moved noiseless through the space. The Army never taught Jensen this. He learned it as a little kid, tiptoeing into Jess' room whenever he had a nightmare. He perfected it as a young man, clueless but hopeful, in those pink-hazed days after Beth was born. This was a stealth born of love, not violence, and so Jake was nearly silent as he padded softly down the hall.

"Nearly" is not "perfectly," though. Jake didn't avoid the board that creaked, or the squeaky stair. He did not try to muffle the little metallic groan from the hinges of the bedroom door. His fingers scuffed over painted wood as he pushed it open, and his breath slipped out in a sigh as he leaned in to look.

The bedroom was dark and quiet too. It wasn't much, as bedrooms go: just a simple platform bed, a pair of dressers, a closet stuffed with skeletons and guns. No art hung on the walls, no pictures on the tables, the windows cloaked only in plain wooden blinds. Jake didn't look at any of that, though. His gaze was drawn the way it always was, to the center of everything, to the middle of the bed where Carlos lay sleeping.

Carlos lay on his back, half swathed in sheets like some Renaissance masterwork. His face, slack and peaceful, was turned toward the window, and one arm lay outstretched. Dark locks spilled over the pillow, caressed a bare shoulder. Cool light from distant streetlamps bathed the scene and bleached it out, leaving nothing but shadow and contrast. Jake's mind supplied the pink of Carlos's lips, slightly parted, and the warm olive of his skin. Somewhere outside a car drove by, and the bed was swept with a wash of gold light. Carlos shifted, sighed, but did not wake.

Jake had to lean against the doorway a moment to take it in. Nobody else in the _world_ got to see Carlos like this. Sure, all the Losers had seen Cougar sleep on missions, but catnaps only — those wary hours of snatched sleep that had him twitching alert at every movement. That wasn't real rest, though. This was, with the loose limbs and soft, even breaths that made his hair flutter across his face. Some prowling part of Carlos' mind, ever vigilant, had heard Jake come in and declared him _safe_ and ceased its watch.

The thought took Jake's breath away.

He moved to stand at the foot of the bed, reached behind his head, pulled his shirt off. The soft sound it made as it fell didn't disturb the sleeper. Neither did the clink of his belt buckle, or the slide of his zipper, or the rustle his jeans made as he pushed them down. Jake stepped out of his clothes and left them crumpled there. Later, Carlos would _tsk_ at him for the mess on the floor, then quirk up his mouth in fond forgiveness anyhow. But tonight, in the half-light, when all the world seemed far away —

Jake knelt carefully on the bed, one knee on either side of Carlos' blanket-wrapped feet. Carlos was radiating warmth even through the covers, and Jake swayed helplessly forward until his hands came down to bracket Carlos' knees. He began to crawl, and inch by inch the clamor in Jake's head quieted, hard drives spinning down until all that was left was this. 

At the level of Carlos' hips Jake paused, spread one broad hand around the curve of Carlos' side, rubbed his thumb along the angle of bone there. He thought of handprint scanners, the heat of his palm lighting up Carlos' skin and saying _It's me, I'm here, don't be alarmed_. Carlos stretched into the touch, his spine arching luxuriantly. Jake lifted his hand away and kept on with his ascent.

He paused again at Carlos' shoulders, admiring the lean muscle there and the graceful curve of collarbones. One arm was still outflung, as if reaching for something lost in dreams, and Jake was helpless not to touch. Light fingers traced across soft pale skin inside Carlos' biceps, circled the sensitive spot at the crook of the elbow, mapped slender blue veins at the confluence of his wrist. From there it was a simple thing to follow that nice, long life line down Carlos' palm... 

Callused fingers closed around his, and Jake looked up to see a glint of brown eyes watching him. "Hey," Jake breathed, but the eyes disappeared behind a slow, sleepy blink, and fingers tightened around Jake's when he would have pulled away. 

Carlos stretched again, more deliberately, his body straining up against air. Jake still hovered there, on his knees and one hand, head ducked low in both bashfulness and adoration. Carlos brought his free hand up, a warm slide of skin that came to rest on the small of Jake's back. His legs twisted, too, caught under their blankets, and somehow knocked Jake's knees out from under him. Jake landed on Carlos with a soft "oof," and looked up to find dark eyes smiling at him from a range of just inches. 

"Jake," Carlos murmured, his voice fuzzed with sleep and warm with affection. He dipped his chin, mouth curling into a secret smile, and raised his head from the pillow. Jake was already there; he slid his hand into the silk-soft of Carlos' hair to cup his skull, to cradle it. The kiss, when it came, was chaste and unhurried. It felt like a first kiss, and it was, in a way: the first of all the kisses yet to come.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake whispered, right up against Carlos' lips. Carlos only made a soft sound of negation, though, shifted his hand to Jake's shoulders and pulled him closer, if such a thing were possible. Jake pressed his face into the side of Carlos' neck and _breathed_. Carlos smelled like — well, Jake's brain couldn't parse it, not now, in the peace and the dark, save that he was home at last. 

Carlos rolled them both until Jake was swaddled in blankets. There was still cloth caught between them, but Jake felt suddenly boneless and couldn't muster more than a whimper of protest. His eyes fell closed and Carlos pulled off his glasses and kissed him: on the mouth, high on the cheekbone, soft and lingering at his temple. Blessed thus, Jake let the world fade away, and there was nothing more 'til morning.

**Author's Note:**

> First work in a new fandom, eep. Hi, _Losers_ fans! Proud to be here!
> 
> This is me on [tumblr](http://z-delenda-est.tumblr.com). You're welcome any time.


End file.
